Coming in Reverse
by satirical
Summary: Friends don’t let friends fool themselves. Sallycentric oneshot with a side of Dasey, on the rocks.


**Coming in Reverse**

_a lwd fanfic by satirical _

-

"I'm telling you, I don't think this is such a good idea."

"I'm telling you, _Derek_, and I know this might come as a bit of a shock, but: you're totally wasted." Sally slammed the door shut and slid her seatbelt on. They could hear the muted stereo speakers pumping from Ralph's living room even through the thick car windows. Nearby, an amorous couple made out quite close to where the car was parked, the beer in their toppled red plastic cups seeping into the grass.

"No way I'm letting you drive. Come on, hand over the keys."

"No! Do you even have your license?"

"I've driven before, just haven't passed every test yet."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." The fact that Sally's last two trips on the road had been over a year ago, when her permit hadn't yet expired, conveniently slipped her mind. "It's not too far to your house; gimme the keys, and I'll have you there before you have the chance to pass out."

Derek glared at her through an inebriated haze before his head lolled back on the back of the seat. "Hey, I only had a couple drinks. I'm not drunk. Slightly dizzy, maybe, but I can still steer a car."

"Yeah, you'll steer it right into a tree. Maybe you should just walk home."

"Dude, if I don't have the car back before midnight, my dad is going to kill me."

"Then fork over the keys, Cinderella."

Derek growled at her under his breath, but nevertheless fumbled out the keys to his dad's car. It took a few tries before he deposited them in her outstretched palm.

"Your hand-eye coordination is shot, Venturi," Sally said, starting the engine. "And you might want to strap yourself in. I've never gone in reverse before."

"What?"

Before Derek could digest this, Sally jerked out of Ralph's driveway, giggling under her breath as the car jostled from the curb into the street. There weren't any other vehicles out on the road, thankfully, and Sally had passably good visual-spatial skills, so after five minutes of maneuvering she finally got the Prince out of Ralph's driveway undamaged, although Ralph's azalea bushes might never recover from the trauma.

"Jeez, you're _horrible_! The only person who drives worse than you would be Casey!"

"Thanks, Derek. Actually it's not that bad, once you get the hang of it." Sally grinned at him sarcastically. "So your house is down this way, right?" When Derek nodded, Sally pulled away, driving steadily downhill. The streetlamps were few and distant, so there were moments when the car was submerged in total darkness. Derek settled himself down in his seat, wondering how his family had gotten the smell out from the Prince. Sally was better when she drove smoothly, he thought, though she was going kinda slow.

"Hey Derek?" asked Sally in one of the dark intervals.

"Yeah?"

"How do I turn on the headlights?"

His eyes popped. "You don't have the lights on? They're on the right."

Sally turned the knob on the right and a pale spray squirted up the windows. "…No. Those are the windshield wipers. On the bright side, your front window is squeaky clean."

"Left, then."

She switched the lights on, and they kept going for a few minutes, before Sally spoke again. "Okay... don't you live right off of Hudson?"

"Yeah."

"We just passed Messing Street. I think we're pointed in the wrong direction."

"I told you I should've driven!" Derek groaned again.

"Headache?" she asked sympathetically, turning into a cul-de-sac. "I doubt you would have gone the right way either; you were the one that pointed me in this direction."

"I did not," he scoffed. Under her knowing look, he sighed and rolled his eyes. "Ok, _maybe_ I did. Use the turn signal next time."

"Oho, the drunkard orders and the chauffer obeys, eh?"

"I say 'jump,' you say 'how far,' my little chauffer-_ess_."

"You're definitely drunker than you think you are. It's 'how high,' and 'chauffer-ess' is not a word." The Prince was back on Ralph's street and now passing the party, where the lights still glared and the music still thundered.

"Sh-mantics."

"So how come Sam and Max weren't at the party?" Sally said, looking to pass the time with a little conversation… and to make sure Derek didn't pass out.

"Sam went to Vancouver yesterday. He's visiting relatives. And Max—he's a loser."

Sally raised her eyebrows and chuckled. "What?"

Derek waved his hand around vaguely. "He's not good enough."

"For what? He seemed pretty nice at prom."

"For… forget it."

"Uh-_huh_."

"Look, he just is, okay? You better _shtay_ _away_ from him," slurred Derek.

"Whoa; back down, tiger. It's not like I'm about to pounce on him. Although I have to admit, he's got quite a cute ass." Sally watched Derek from the corner of her eye for a reaction. He made a disgusted face; when she turned to laugh at him for not recognizing a joke when he saw one, she hit a curb and the whole car _creaked_.

"HEY! Be careful!"

"Sorry. It's been a little while."

"You'd think that you'd get better with practice, Casey," said Derek, shaking his head. "Really, it's getting sad."

"…Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm _Sally_."

He looked bewildered. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

"You called me Casey."

"No, I didn't."

"Uh-_huh_."

Sally turned right onto Hudson and let out a relieved whistle when she reached more familiar territory. She'd been to Derek's house a few times, and recognized the neighborhood. There was the house with the peacock fountain, and up ahead was the house with the bright magenta ford truck. It was still a few more blocks until his suburban home, and she thought it was a good time to ask him, "Hey, what exactly is going on with Casey?"

"What do you mean?" She thought there was some suspicion in his glazed-over eyes.

"She's been coming around to Smelly Nelly's a lot more often."

"Just because she loves me madly doesn't mean you should be jealous," smirked Derek dismissively. When Sally didn't answer, the smile evaporated. "Look, Sal—there's _nothing_ going on between Casey and me. I was just kidding when I said that she loves me madly—you've seen us. We hate each other."

"Uh-_huh_."

"Hey, _she doesn't like me_, so there's nothing for you to worry about."

"Oh, there is," she said under her breath.

He froze. "What do you mean?"

"Don't sound so defensive. I'm worried about _you_, Derek."

"I'm not going to pass out. What's there to worry about?" he said, relaxing.

"That when she gets together with the new busboy you'll get hurt."

"…_What_! With _Jake_? That moron?" Derek suddenly stopped and spun toward Sally so fast that he went cross-eyed for a moment and gasped with pain as his headache returned. His house loomed up ahead; Sally slowed down to give Derek some time to compose himself. When he did, he spoke as carefully and deliberately as a man in his state of intoxication could. "What are you implying?"

She bit her lip as she pulled into his street, spotting the funky neighbor with the hot pink Ford truck up ahead. "You can flirt with me in front of Casey, but she won't be jealous. Just annoyed."

"I think you're operating under false assumptions. I'm not interested in Casey. And she's not interested in me."

Sally took her eye off the road to glance briefly at him. He seemed to be truthful. "That's good. Fantastic."

His eyebrows drifted upward. "What does that mean?" he asked, drawing out each word warily.

She snorted, as if it wasn't obvious already. "Casey is your stepsister; you live with her, you see her in and out, seven days a week. You guys might not admit it, but you're actually pretty close. If you fell for her—well, it would never work out. Casey's a good girl. So I'm glad there's nothing going on."

She pulled into Derek's driveway and killed the engine.

"Whoa, Sal. Didn't know you cared." He frowned absently; he hadn't even realized they had arrived. She elbowed him and pointed.

His house was dark and totally silent; he would have to sneak in. She tried to lighten the mood; things got dangerous when Derek thought. "Do you think your dad will be waiting, Princess?"

"Hardy-har. He'll be awake. It's like 11:54. I got a few minutes." He smiled slowly, under half-lidded seductive eyes. It would have been attractive, except that he stank of alcohol. That, and she was rather old-fashioned about relationships—and she knew Derek couldn't handle one. She had the sense to decline when he purred, "So, you wanna walk me to my door, or should we make out in the car?"

"Sorry, Derek, I'm not interested in the copying a 80's teen-movie cliché. But I'll tell you what; if you give me your phone, I'll call someone to pick me up so I won't have to drive away in your car."

"You could just stay the night," he said, smirking.

"I'm not sure your parents would be OK with me joining you for breakfast. It may get me banned from your house." _And make Casey throw a hissy fit, which is probably what you're half-hoping for at this point._

"Come on. You can sleep on the couch if you're not up for anything tonight."

He was such a child sometimes. "Derek, no. Your judgment is _seriously_ impaired. Gimme your phone."

He rolled his eyes, yet nonetheless pulled out his cell. "Where's yours?" he slurred.

"It got dropped in a bowl of spiked punch back there." She punched in her best friend's phone number and asked him to come pick her up. "There. Now go to sleep."

He took the keys from her and they both got out. He had to lean against the car to stand up; considerably less trashed, she zipped up her coat to keep out the freezing night breezes and tried not to look worried. He wasn't moving toward the house. He was staring up at a darkened window near the side of the house. She waited, her arms folded across her chest to keep the cold and the dread out.

When he finally spoke, he sounded subdued. "How did you know that I thought…?"

"Just instinct. It's kinda like when you're going in reverse, and you just know how much you need to turn the wheel to get the car straight again."

He nodded. "I gotta go, Sal."

"Night, Derek."

He walked to the front door, his shoes making soft wet noises on his lawn like tiny exhalations. When he finally went in, and the lights began to turn on in his house, one by one (starting just before his dad's exclamation 'You're not late!' and followed by 'You've been drinking!'), Sally looked up to that motionless window Derek had watched. It might have just been her imagination, but she thought she saw the slightest movement inside, as if someone thin and lithe had stepped away from the window, and was only now going back to her untouched bed.

Sally shook her head. She suspected she knew whose window Derek had gazed up at—she also suspected that even if something happened, it would only end badly.

As her best friend's car pulled up by the curb and she slid into the passenger seat, she put all thoughts of Derek and his stepsister out of her mind. She'd given him all the aid she could tonight. It wasn't her life, after all, and not really her business either. In the end, Derek would do what Derek always does—mess up and recover gracefully, like the charismatic winner she knew he was.

And if anything did happen, maybe, she thought, the aftermath of his impulsiveness would teach him a lesson this time.

God knows he deserved one.


End file.
